


The Moral Of The Story

by berlynn_wohl, Sky_Full_of_Dragons



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, First Time, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Pining, Sexual Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 20:55:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2164869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berlynn_wohl/pseuds/berlynn_wohl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sky_Full_of_Dragons/pseuds/Sky_Full_of_Dragons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was just so infuriating: didn’t Newton realize that if he gave up all this "liberated Omega" nonsense, he could be taken care of and coddled and provided for? In the right Alpha’s hands, he would want for nothing. Why couldn’t Newton desire that?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Moral Of The Story

**1.  
**

The clerk handed them each a badge without ceremony, and droned, “The elevator behind you will take you to the K-science lab. Tenth floor. Your quarters are adjacent. Doctor Gottlieb, your equipment arrived yesterday from Anchorage; Doctor Geiszler, only half of your equipment has arrived from the Pitcairn Islands, the rest is still en route.” Immediately, the clerk turned her attention to the technician behind them, who introduced himself last-name-first and was handed his own badge. As Newt and Hermann realized that their orientation was essentially over, they wandered toward the elevator, looking back at the clerk periodically in case she might suddenly realize that she had forgotten to hand them a map, a manila folder, anything. 

Newt stood close to Hermann in the elevator, prompting Hermann to make an exaggerated step away. He knew it was rude, but he felt justified in doing so. Newt had a distinct odor about him, one that Hermann was surprised and displeased to find lingering about his new lab partner. 

Newt clearly perceived what had just happened, and said, “Oh, yeah, sorry dude. Ammonia. Occupational hazard.” 

“It isn’t that,” Hermann grumbled. “Although yes, I can also smell the ammonia. But aren’t Omegas who work for the PPDC required to take suppressants, so you don’t cause a disturbance?” 

“Oh, that. Yeah, they issued me suppressants. But fuck that shit, man.” The elevator doors opened, and Newt marched into the lab, followed, at a distance, by Hermann. “Why should I drug myself up? It’s not my problem if Alphas are such animals that they can’t deal with an Omega in the room without going apeshit. Why is it an Omega’s responsibility not to be taken advantage of?” 

“It’s not even your responsibility to be in a laboratory! Omegas should be at home, fulfilling their family duties. I can’t even imagine what you’ve done to your own reproductive capabilities, being around all these chemicals.” 

Newt rolled his eyes. “You sound like my grandma.” Newt pitched his voice higher than usual, with a nagging tone. 'Newton, when are you going to have babies? Newton, why did you waste so much money on school? Newton, an Omega's place is in the home!'” He shook his head, disgusted that he was to be stuck with a colleague of _that_ attitude. “Whatever, man. I’m a liberated Omega. If I want to have a career, I will. So...where to begin on all this?” 

Hermann sighed and turned his gaze from the madman beside him. In one corner of the lab, small, neatly-labeled crates were stacked haphazardly and seven feet high. Hermann cringed at the thought of enlisting Doctor Geiszler’s help unstacking them. He had _specifically requested_ that the moving crew arrange the boxes in the lab in such a way that he could access and unpack them safely by himself. That wasn’t special treatment, it was common courtesy. 

The whole thing made him more self-conscious, and he tried to stride, eyes forward, as if to deny that he needed the cane he gripped so tightly, but almost immediately tottered when he slipped in a puddle. Trying to pretend it hadn’t happened, he continued forward as he shouted back at Newt, “But how can you stand to be around Alphas in the workplace? Doesn’t the smell of them drive you mad?” 

“Not really. I’m hyposmic. I mean, I can smell a little bit, but not really. That’s why the ammonia doesn’t bother me, either.” 

Hermann stopped dead in his tracks. “So…you couldn’t detect an Alpha.” 

“Nope. They don’t bug me at all.” 

“Even if one were right in front of you.” 

“What are you, dense? I said no. I happen to be one of the few people who can judge others by their character, not what they have in their pants.” Newt rolled his eyes again and got to work rearranging his equipment according to his preferences. 

 

 

 **2.**

Life in Hong Kong went on much as life in Anchorage and the Pitcairn Islands had. For his part, Hermann was pleased that his quarters were adjacent to the lab in this Shatterdome. It meant that aside from occasional forays to acquire food, he would not have to do a lot of walking, or dealing with other people. 

His isolation was, unfortunately, not complete, for he still had to share the lab with Newt. And Newt, like Hermann, kept to the lab nearly all the time. It would not have even done Hermann any good to try working a different shift, to avoid him. Newt was a workaholic too, and nearly always present. Once Hermann accepted this, he hunkered down and concentrated on the work, and as time went by, the rough edges wore away and he found he might spend an entire day in the lab _without_ experiencing any homicidal feelings. Hermann had certainly had worse colleagues, and Newt proved to be respectful of many things others were not – storing lab supplies on reasonable shelves and parceling large shipments into smaller and lighter containers that were not difficult for Hermann to access. All without being asked to do so. 

The other Alphas in the Shatterdome – mostly pilots, a few metalworkers – made comments, by turns irritated and leering, about Newt’s smell whenever he visited communal areas. (All the Betas could smell Newt as well, of course – but they didn’t care. It was just another bothersome odor in a cramped living/working situation, much like the Asian staff complaining that the white staff all smelled like sour milk.) This treatment may have been an additional motivation for Newt to absorb himself in lab work, which was great for everyone else, because that meant he was only disrupting one Alpha (though he still did not realize that he was). 

Hermann’s opinion of his colleague see-sawed, sometimes several times a day. Whenever they had a disagreement, Hermann was sorely tempted to dismiss the situation as “yet another reason Omegas should remain at home.” However, Newt also had some good ideas, and in those moments, Hermann felt that perhaps his traditional views might be too stodgy. He found himself grateful that this particular Omega did eschew societal norms, so that he could contribute his valuable talents. There was no doubt that Newt was brilliant, especially within his field of xenobiology. 

Occasionally, Hermann found himself dwelling on Newton, and what a pity it was that hyposmia had derailed his life. For hundreds of millennia, Omegas had evolved – by natural selection, and in many societies through careful cultivation – to emphasize their most appealing features. From their small, manageable frames to their pert, round behinds to their seemingly limitless capacity for compliance and submission, Omegas were built to appeal to and please Alphas. And Newt was no different; his existence was the culmination of a hundred thousand years of this same process. But then, such an ostensibly innocuous condition as hyposmia threw a monkey wrench in the whole works, and turned Newton into an uppity deviant. Newton's life was difficult, Hermann had no trouble realizing that, and he found himself feeling a little sorry for the biologist. And a little irritated that Newton hadn't, with his considerable scientific skill, found a cure for his reduced sense of smell. Surely, that's what any rational Omega would want. 

After a few moments of this thinking, Hermann always caught himself, and felt not so much ashamed as baffled. Why did he care? Why allow himself to become irritated at Newton’s rejection of his biological destiny, especially when he had so many other qualities for Hermann to be annoyed about? His disregard for safety procedures. His shrill stubbornness. The loose and insufficient collection of habits that he mistakenly considered to be “hygiene.” 

But it was just so infuriating: didn’t Newton realize that if he gave up all this “liberated Omega” nonsense, he could be taken care of and coddled and provided for? In the right Alpha’s hands, he would want for nothing. Why couldn’t Newton desire that? 

_In the right Alpha's hands_...Hermann winced and tried to push the thought from his mind. _He_ was not right for any Omega. All his strengths lay between his ears, this was plain for anyone to see. He couldn't fight, couldn't protect, could hardly get through daily life _himself_ sometimes, and couldn't be expected to care for an Omega in the throes of heat, or when heavy with child. _His child,_ an ancient and animalistic corner of Hermann's mind whispered, and he was back to square one. He should stop this thinking at once! Even if he _were_ as strong of body as he was of mind, certainly he and _Newton..._ there was absolutely positively nothing to come of that thinking. Newton was a ridiculous, loud, annoying abnormality and the two of them were not compatible in any way. 

 

***

  

Newt’s hyposmia had another unpleasant side effect, one entirely unrelated to his odd private life. He returned to the lab one day after a trip to the cafeteria, carrying two cartons of milk – one regular, one chocolate. “Got you one,” Newt said, and placed the regular carton on Hermann’s desk. “A boring one, because you’re boring and you like boring things.” 

Hermann wasn’t thirsty, but he couldn’t just leave it sitting there. He went to the desk and picked it up, and a quick examination of the top of the carton revealed that it had been “just sitting there” for quite some time – the milk had expired weeks ago. Hermann looked over at Newt, who was opening his carton and tipping it up like he was ready to guzzle the whole thing in one go. 

“Stop!” Hermann hurried as best he could to snatch the carton from a confused Newt’s hand. He pointed to the expiration date, then had a whiff. Indeed, it smelled foul, and Hermann gagged. 

Newt looked…somehow impressed. “Oh wow, thanks dude. I wasn’t even paying attention. Ugh, that would have been awful, huh. Does it smell bad?” 

When Hermann glanced at Newt, intending to give him a look of disdain, he instead felt an odd tenderness. It might have been quite amusing and smugly satisfying to watch Newt unwittingly dump curdled milk into his mouth, but instead Hermann’s instinct had been to...protect him. This feeling made him slightly uncomfortable, new and strange as it was, and he closed up the carton and dropped it in the biohazard bin, muttering, “It smells repulsive. Why do you even drink the chocolate kind if you can’t taste anything.” 

Newt said defensively, “Um, hello, because that’s how cool people get their calcium? And it's not like it can't be fun. I couldn't find any, otherwise I would have dumped a bunch of chili powder in there to give it-” 

“Newton, that sounds absolutely dangerous, on the near side of lunacy! If it was up to me, I'd make sure that-” and he caught himself before delving into condescension. 

Newt regarded him for a long moment. “Well, it isn't up to you, is it.” But Newt smiled a small smile that...did Hermann mistake it for a _fond_ smile? Newton grabbed up the carton he had brought for Hermann, checked the date, and tossed it behind his back into the bin. “But...thanks.” 

 

 

 **3.**

 

Though Hermann was not at all social, other Alphas sometimes approached him in the cafeteria or other communal areas and made small talk based on their shared status. Some sympathized with him, admired his ability to tolerate an uppity Omega; others expressed envy that he had an Omega “all to himself” in the lab. There was no aggression fueled by jealousy. Nobody considered either of the scientists a prize, but the idea that they had paired up was considered “adorable.” It was obvious by their smells that both Newt and Hermann were un-bonded, but everyone assumed that it was just a matter of time before Hermann claimed what was “his.” 

Meanwhile, if Hermann did ever feel inclined to believe that Newt was “his,” he was always quickly divested of the notion by yet another of Newt’s rants about being _liberated_. Newton was determined to belong to _himself_ , no matter what anyone else's opinion was. No matter what _Hermann's_ opinion was, though he might admit that it was subject to change. If the whole Shatterdome was expecting Hermann to make Newt his own, and if no one cared to challenge him on the matter, so much the better. Newt did not need an Alpha, and Hermann did not need an Omega, but having Newton around was decent company. Hermann was grateful that he didn't have to share. 

 

***

  

Newt put down his bone drill, looked straight ahead – not anywhere near Hermann’s direction – and said, “I have been awake for twenty-six hours and I have reached a point where continuing to work won’t accomplish anything. I’m gonna grab some grub from the cafeteria, then I’m going to bed.” He walked away from the rib (or was it a toe? Difficult to tell) on the table, seemingly unconcerned about storing it for the night, and headed out the door. 

“I’ll come with you!” Hermann surprised himself by calling after Newt. All day long, the whine of the bone drill had been driving him mad. He’d stayed out here and continued working at Newt’s side, he told himself, because the drill could be heard from his quarters, so retiring to privacy would have afforded him no peace. But now that he had the opportunity to sleep in silence, he instead wanted to follow Newton. Why was that? 

As they sat at the table with their metal trays, their little cartons of juice, Hermann asked Newt to tell him about the direction that his research had taken him lately. Newt managed to stick to the subject for two or three sentences, but soon branched out into such topics as broken supply lines for kaiju parts, incompetent retrieval teams, and inconsiderate Shatterdome staff. 

“I guess I get why some people don’t think I should be working,” Newt said around a mouthful of food, “but it’s like, it’s been six months. I’m _here_ , you know? Whether you like it or not, I’m here and I’m not leaving to pop out some sprogs, so can you act like an adult about it? I don’t mean _you_ you, because you’ve obviously managed to grasp it. I mean other people.” 

“I understand. And…I’m very sorry I said those things to you the first day.” And he was. 

“It’s cool, man. We're cool now. In my experience, scientists are just as bad as everyone else at first, but they always become chill about it quickest, and then we all get on with our work.” He gestured between them with his spoon of over-sugared pudding. “ _We_ look at the evidence presented. _We_ are not afraid to change our minds, challenge dogma, and go against convention, because it's not about what we _believe_ , it's about what's _true._ It’s everyone _else_ that can’t seem to grasp the concept of a liberated Omega, especially Alphas. Obviously.” 

“All this abuse that you put up with, though. It must make you wary of doing what you do, knowing that at any minute, it could go from an Alpha trying to verbally put you in your place to trying to…physically do so.” 

“Nah, Alphas don’t have an interest in me like that, not anymore. That’s the real reason why they find me so annoying. I’m a hopeless case.” 

“I’m not sure I follow.” 

“See, when I was in college, I said to myself, ‘Why shouldn’t I be able to enjoy sex, just because I don’t want to get knocked up?’ I mean, it sort of detracts from the whole being-liberated thing, right? So I had myself sterilized.” 

Hermann snorted at this. “You’re telling me you found someone willing to sterilize a healthy Omega in their prime breeding years?” 

“It was a friend of mine, actually. He was an Omega, too, and we kind of…snuck into the clinic he was interning at and performed the procedure on each other.” 

At this, Hermann dropped his fork. “You performed, and submitted to, an unlicensed, clandestine surgical procedure? My God, that is…” 

“Badass? I know.” 

“Not precisely the word I would have used,” Hermann said with a glower. 

“Yeah, well, that’s _your_ problem.” 

Suddenly, the implications of what Newt was saying sent a tingle of jealousy down Hermann’s spine. “So…I suppose that, since you don’t have to worry about pregnancy, you just…have relations…freely. With whomever you want.” 

“No no no no no, that’s the point of what I’m trying to tell you, about the fear of being assaulted. I found out pretty quickly, the only thing Alphas want less than a loud-mouth Omega who doesn’t take anyone’s shit is a loud-mouth Omega who doesn’t take anyone’s shit _and_ can’t have babies. Turns out they can smell it. When I go into heat, they can tell my egg didn’t drop into the right place or something. I mean that's not what the _actual_ mechanism is, but it's not like it matters to them.” Newt laughed ruefully. “Basically, what’s the point of me, you know? To Alphas, I’m unbearably irritating _and_ a non-entity, at the same time.” 

“That’s not true,” Hermann sputtered. “you’re—that is…so, that’s why you don’t bother taking suppressants. You don’t need to, er, guard yourself against unwanted advances.” 

“No, the correct answer is that I don’t take suppressants because I don’t give a fuck what Alphas or anyone else thinks. I'll smell how I want, and I'll go into heat if I want, and it's no one's business but mine.” 

“Indeed,” Hermann said, letting the corner of his mouth twitch upwards. 

 

 

**4.**

 

Hermann loathed venturing into the Jaeger bay. The lab was his domain, and he was as comfortable there as he could be anywhere. But in the Jaeger bay he was always worried that he was standing in someone’s way, or that his presence was a safety hazard, or that he would simply be crushed by a random falling object, or a gargantuan limb. 

But the network was down, and Mako had asked for his calculations as soon as possible. “SneakerNet,” that was what they used to call it, when you had to walk the data to its intended recipient. 

“Miss Mori!” He had to shout to get her attention, over the droning and screeching of Gipsy Danger’s refurbishment. “I have those…I say I HAVE THOSE NEW CALCULATIONS FOR YOU!” 

Mako gestured for Hermann to follow her into the tiny office just off the bay, where they could converse. 

Hermann handed Mako the drive which held the data. “It is not viable to make the swords as long as we had originally intended them to be,” he said. “Not with that particular steel-obsidian alloy. The gyro-stabilizers won’t be able to compensate for the change in her center of balance if the swords are deployed on solid ground. But I reduced the length three percent – one length of chain, essentially – and that proved sufficient. As for the upgrades to the interface…” 

Hermann went on for several minutes, detailing the figures he’d come up with for Gipsy’s various upgrades. Soon his contribution would be over, and Mako would work closely with Tendo on the implementation of the re-fittings that Hermann had carefully designed with her. 

He would miss working with Mako. No one else treated him with as much respect as she did. She never interrupted him by snapping, “Fine, just have the report on my desk tomorrow,” or to complain that she didn’t understand what he was going on about…because she always understood. She listened carefully, and he never had to repeat himself. And when she did speak, her input and criticism was concise and insightful. What he wouldn’t give to have her as his lab partner, rather than the infuriating Doctor Geiszler, who was just so disruptive that he occupied Hermann’s thoughts nearly every moment… 

At the end of Hermann’s explanation, Mako said simply, “It has been a pleasure collaborating with you. I would say that you are welcome to visit the Jaeger bay any time to see how the refitting is proceeding, but I know you don’t like it in here. So I will send you pictures.” She smiled, and at that moment, to Hermann, she just seemed so kind and understanding, Hermann blurted out, “Miss Mori, before I go, may I ask your advice about something? Something personal?” 

Mako kept still, did not appear taken aback. “What is it?” 

“You, er, know my colleague, Doctor Geiszler…” 

“Of course. Whenever I see him, he never stops talking about you.” 

“The reason I bring it up is— He talks about me?” 

“It would be more honest to say he complains about you. But I doubt that surprises you.” 

Lacking ideas about how else to react, Hermann gave a little bark of a laugh. Mako went on: “I find it telling that he is so verbose on the subject of you. When I have to endure unpleasantness, I try to forget it as soon as I am able, distract myself and talk about other things with people. But it seems that you are just always on Doctor Geiszler’s mind.” 

Hermann swallowed. “I see. Thank you…for telling me that.” 

“So what is it you wanted to ask me?” Mako said, though her expression indicated that she already had a pretty clear idea. 

“Ah, no, that is, I…it was silly of me to bring it up, you…I really should be getting back to work. Good afternoon.” 

Hermann wished to leave as quickly as possible but did not want to be rude to Mako, and turned himself awkwardly, body first, then head, towards the door.

 

 

 **5.**

 

Hermann prided himself on returning borrowed items promptly when he was finished with them. He considered it respectful, and hoped that others would treat the things they borrowed from him with the same consideration (they usually didn’t). 

As soon as he was finished with the book Newt had loaned him, he got up from his chair, exited his room, and crossed the lab to Newt’s quarters. He knocked several times with no answer before he remembered that Newt had said he was going into the city to see a film. He would probably be gone for at least another hour. The door was open, so Hermann went inside to set the book on Newt’s desk. That was all he’d intended to do, just enter for five seconds to return the book, but once inside, he was overcome by a strange feeling. The room was thick with the smell of Newt. His hyposmia meant that he could not be prompted to make changes to his environment based on olfactory cues. For example, he often didn’t realize that his clothes or sheets needed to be changed because they were getting a bit rank. Of course, if Hermann had suffered from diminished olfactory capacity, he would set a rigid and frequent schedule for things like laundry, and adhere to it, to avoid any chance of such a _faux pas_. But he understood that it would be unreasonable to expect someone like Newt to be so diligent. 

So, the strength of Newt’s personal odor in the room was not a surprise. What surprised Hermann was his lack of repulsion. Being in this room, which Newt had meticulously decorated to reflect his childish tastes and which was crammed with his most treasured personal possessions, filled Hermann with a feeling of…intimacy. There was nothing visible in the room that was so private that he was ashamed to be invading Newt’s personal space, and yet he couldn’t help but feel like he shouldn’t be there, that he was overstepping the boundaries of their relationship. Newt was his lab partner, not someone whose personal scent he should be thinking about, dwelling on. 

It only took two steps to stand next to the bed. The sheets were mussed; Hermann could not picture Newt ever making the bed. A moment later, Hermann found himself seated on the bed, and his cane set aside. He wasn’t sure how that had happened. Then he began thinking about the time Newt spent in the bed: he slept here, and most likely masturbated here. Being an Omega, his penis was likely significantly smaller than average, but it would feel just as good when he touched himself. That was why the smell of him was so heavy here. He would sweat from the exertion of pleasuring himself, and leave the scent behind when he got up and proceeded with the rest of his day. 

Hermann checked the clock. Yes, Newt had said that the film started at nineteen hundred hours. Hermann was certain that there was no way Newt would return and catch him here, if he stayed for a few more minutes. If he were indeed to lie down on the bed and press his face into Newt’s pillow, and Newt caught him at it, it would be mortifying. But he wouldn’t be caught. Hermann could do this without Newt ever knowing. So it was as if it wasn’t happening at all. 

When Hermann found himself with an erection, he turned himself so that he could rub it against the mattress. But that wasn’t enough. While his left hand still clutched at Newt’s sheets, the right let go to move down to unzip his trousers and take out his cock, which was beginning to ache. 

The Omega scent on the sheets just made him feel so relaxed and comfortable, but with an underlying pleasant buzz that he knew was clouding his judgment, but he didn’t care. As he rubbed, his fingertips ventured down to touch the base of his cock, where the flesh was thicker and spongy. That’s where his knot would form. He had not yet been sufficiently exposed to Omega heat pheromones to have ever formed a knot. He wondered what it felt like. 

Hermann dropped his other hand down to catch the spunk when it came, in several hot pulses that made him grit his teeth to keeping from making any sound beyond a pathetic whimper. 

And in this moment of vulnerability, that same old thought came back to him: why couldn’t Newt just be an ordinary Omega? If he were, he would naturally desire Hermann the way Hermann desired him. As hard as he fought against it, Hermann couldn’t keep the thought from his mind: if only Newt could smell, he would be _normal_ , and Hermann could settle him down with the sex that Newt would doubtless desire from him. 

But as the sweat cooled on his forehead and the spunk got sticky in his hand, he cursed himself, thinking: _So when Doctor Newton Geiszler, the “Typical Omega,” goes into heat, and tears off his own clothing because it’s irritating his sensitized skin, when he lies on the bed and puts his arse in the air and begs to be satiated, and protected, and cared for, who is going to fulfill his demands? Who is going to fuck him to exhaustion? You? Don’t be a fool. You could barely get out of bed this morning._

 

 

**6.**

 

Newt was quieter than usual today. Without his incessant chatter, Hermann could scribble a few ideas on a napkin as they ate next to each other in the mess hall. Newt couldn’t help but comment, but the quips were just not coming as fast and furious as they normally did. 

“Are you still working on that problem? What’s it called?” 

“The Kopp-Kasakov Problem. People have been trying to solve it for twenty years.” 

“Hmm. And when it’s solved, what’s gonna happen? Cure cancer? Will it vaccinate for something?” 

Hermann clutched his pen. Now he was no longer able to think on the problem properly. “A math problem is like a puzzle without a box. You do not know what it will look like when it’s finished, or even if it is possible to finish, until you have worked on it. But some believe that solving it will connect two areas of mathematics which are seemingly unrelated: category theory and–” 

“Oh, you mean it’s just abstract nonsense for its own sake. Why didn’t you just say so.” Newt returned his attention to his food, and there was a long pause, during which Hermann thought it safe to return to his work. Then Newt piped up again: “Has it never occurred to you to focus on actual problems that can improve actual lives if they are solved? I mean look, I love science. Duh. But what does your goofy math tell us about anything? Can it tell us where consciousness comes from?” He was talking with his mouth full of food now, waving his fork around. “That’s a tall order, I guess, but what about something simple? Can the Kopp-Kasakov problem tell us why moths like light bulbs? Can it tell us why Latinos love Morrissey so much?” 

Hermann answered, “I can do what I wish in my spare time.” He was going to say something more, but he paused when he saw Newt suddenly appearing distraught and flushed. 

“I don’t feel so good,” Newt said, in an uncharacteristic murmur. “I mean, I don’t feel like I’m gonna barf or anything, but…uh, what day is it?” 

The tech sitting across from them said, “It’s Tuesday the eleventh.” 

“Oh.” Newt blinked. “And what month is it?” 

“June.” 

“Shit. Hermann, will you take me back to my room? Right now? I’m about to…do my thing.” 

Hermann was taken aback at this sudden coyness about what was happening. Where was the Newt who would unabashedly push through a crowd screaming _Make way, Omega in heat over here!_

The tech had leaned over and tapped his buddy on the shoulder, and that guy had in turn alerted several other men and women, including a few Alphas, to Newt’s condition. Soon, half the cafeteria was watching raptly as Newt took Hermann’s arm and allowed himself to be led out. There were a few lewd hoots, encouragements directed towards Hermann, which he ignored. Newt made no verbal comment, but managed to raise his middle finger to the crowd on his way out the door, to general laughter and an amused call of “Exactly!” 

 

*******

  

Newt clung to Hermann’s arm, his palms damp. “Omigod, please,” he panted, but could not complete his thought, and Hermann felt powerless to assist. He didn’t know much about heats, or what one was supposed to do about them. That is, he knew what Alphas were “supposed to do about them,” and the temptation to fulfill society’s expectations was definitely present. But Hermann could not allow himself to take advantage of Newt, to carry out his own personal whims on someone who had struggled so hard all his life to avoid such treatment. 

He tried to concentrate on the more mundane sensation that he was currently experiencing for the first time: someone leaning on him for support. He struggled to keep Newt upright and still hold onto his cane, and together they hobbled to the lab, and on to Newt’s quarters. 

Newt appeared conflicted at the sight of his bed. He desperately wanted to lie down, but at the same time he was reluctant to lose his grip on Hermann. Hermann helped him along by leaning to one side, compelling Newt at last to collapse on the mattress. Flushed and perspiring, Newt looked like he could use a drink of water, so Hermann darted into the lab, and rummaged through his desk, where he kept a stash of bottled water and dehydrated fruit slices. Returning to Newt’s quarters, he opened the bottle and handed it to Newt, who put his hand over Hermann’s so that Hermann could not disengage as he desperately sucked the water out, only letting go when half the water was gone. 

Hermann pushed aside some candy wrappers so he could set the bottle on the desk beside the bed, placed the bag of fruit slices alongside it, and smoothed his jacket down as he stood back. 

“Well. That’s that, then. I’ll just be out in the lab, so if you need anything else, you can…yell for me.” He was reluctant to give up the eyeful he had of Newt flushed, damp, and panting. He backed out of Newt’s quarters and shut the door. 

He leaned against the door and took a deep breath. It occurred to him then that he’d left his scribbled notes in the mess hall. He’d have to go back and retrieve them, before he resumed his work. 

As he stepped through the massive doorway into the mess hall, he was greeted with fifty sets of curious eyes, and a sudden stillness in the conversation. 

“What the hell are you doing back here? Shouldn’t you be taking care of your Omega?” 

“I have done,” Hermann protested. “I put him to bed, and I made certain he had some food and water…” 

“He means,” said another, “shouldn’t you be _taking care of_ your Omega?” 

“Oh. _Oh._ No, you don’t understand. Doctor Geiszler is one of those ‘liberated Omegas.’ He’s not interested in me. What I have to offer.” 

“You know, Hermann, for a genius, you sure are an idiot. Why don’t you just go back and check in on him. See if he does need anything else from you.” 

Mako had been watching all this happening, and had not said anything, hoping that Hermann would figure things out on his own. She treasured Hermann as a colleague; their collaboration on the sword had been a great success. But as she got to know him better, she found she also treasured him as a friend, and it made her sad to see that he was so close to what might have been a very happy companionship, and yet was unable to realize it. She stood up and quietly took Hermann aside, leading him just outside the doors to the cafeteria. 

“You know that Doctor Geiszler needs you right now. But more importantly, he _wants_ you. Why won’t you go to him?” she asked. 

Hermann surprised her with his answer, which put the lie to both of their previous assumptions about himself. He said: “I don’t want the moral of this story to be that all Newton needed all along was an Alpha.” 

“Newt isn’t a typical Omega,” Mako admitted. “But you’re not a typical Alpha. Has it not occurred to you that you and Newt have a great affection for each other, and that the moral of the story might be that what he needed all along was not _an_ _Alpha_ , but _you?_ Go to him.” 

Hermann was stunned by what she said, and stared at her for several seconds. As he did so, her expression only became more certain and reassuring. She had Hermann’s trust in all other matters, he thought, why not this one? 

At last, he nodded stiffly to her, started to walk away, then pivoted back and sheepishly darted into the cafeteria to snatch up his notes before making his way back to the lab.

  

***

 

 It was not until he was halfway to the lab that it really sank in for Hermann what was about to occur. Whether it was entirely his choice to not engage in shenanigans with Omegas, or whether his celibacy was the wider world’s decision, he wasn’t always certain, but the result was what mattered: it had become a habit, a custom, for him to stand aside, opt out, seek fulfillment in other ways, not pursue. Not until this very moment had it occurred to him that he might actually _be with Newton_. When he had finally admitted to himself he was pining, he had been prepared to continue to pine, as no other option seemed apparent, even when he’d put a heat-sick Newt to bed. It was not even that it required an enormous amount of self-control. It was all reflex. He had no more considered taking advantage of Newt’s being compromised than he had ever considered attempting to collect neutrinos in a jar. 

Standing outside the door to Newt’s quarters, he could hear soft moans and whining coming from the other side, and it hurt his heart. 

“Newton,” he called out. “I want you to know that I have a lot of respect for you, personally. I mean, I suppose that professionally, not everything you do is entirely lacking in merit. But right now the personal aspect is more relevant. Because I would like to, er, help you through your heat, but I would never cross this threshold if it meant that when it was over, you felt that I had exploited a situation that was beyond your control. I understand that it may be more difficult to establish an arrangement based on mutual respect if it is precipitated by an altered state of mind–” 

Hermann was interrupted by a strained, cracking voice. “Um, if you could get in here right now, that’d be great, actually.” 

Hermann tried the door handle. It was unlocked. 

In the few minutes that he’d been absent, the air of the room had become saturated with Newt’s pheromones. Hermann couldn’t believe, now, that he’d ever been able to resist taking advantage of him. 

Having been sufficiently overwhelmed by the scent, Hermann turned his eyes to Newt, who lay in a damp sprawl on the bed, his clothes having been discarded at some point and strewn about the room. 

“I’m an idiot,” Newt whined. Hermann was picking Newt’s glasses up off the floor, and putting them in a safe place. “I always put off preparing for it, and then when it happens I’m miserable. I had a toy, it helped, but it got lost in the move. You gotta help me, man. Can you go into the city and buy me something to use? I’ll owe you big time. Anything you want. I’ll do anything for you.” 

These last two statements provoked a hard pulse in Hermann’s cock. He bit his bottom lip and said, “I don’t think I’ll need to go all the way into the city.” 

“Have you got something here? I don’t care what it is or where it’s been, man, just, what have you got that’s gonna make my life easier?” 

Hermann cleared his throat. “Well, I ah, I have this.” He undid the button of his trousers, unzipped them, and let his enormous hard cock tumble out. The knot at the base had not swollen yet, but it was apparent. Newt’s stared at it with eyes like saucers, then looked up at Hermann’s face, then back at his cock. He cried out, “Oh shit, dude, you’re an Alpha?!” 

“I’m afraid so. Now listen, what I was saying about not wanting to–” 

“Hey, if you could put that in me as quickly as you possibly can, that’d be great.” Newt, who until then had seemed to be struggling with his motor control, deftly flipped himself over and propped himself on his hands and knees, as though some force were returning him to a default position. 

Hermann divested himself of his jacket, then went for his trousers, forgetting that his shoes were still on. He leaned against the bunk for balance while he tried again to get various articles of clothing off in the proper order. All along, he said, “I, ah, don’t know that I’ll be able to, er, assist you in that position. My leg…” 

“No problem, dude, no problem.” Newt flopped onto his back and put his legs in the air, holding onto the backs of his thighs. The movement wafted more of Newt’s scent up Hermann’s nostrils. He could smell it, somehow: Newton was indisputably in heat, but he wasn’t fertile. It didn’t matter to Hermann, though. Newton was in agony, and needed the kind of relief only an Alpha could provide. 

When Hermann looked up from his buttons and saw how Newt was displaying himself, he whispered, “Mother of God. I think, though, that you will have to assume the, ah, superior position, is what I was trying to say.” 

“Oh, right. Yeah.” Newt made room for Hermann as he reclined on the bed and placed himself on his back. 

Newt did not waste any time. He hauled himself over Hermann’s body, straddling his hips, and reached behind him to line Hermann’s cock up with his hole. Hermann reached out to caress Newt’s thighs, feel his skin, just generally make a meal of it, but before he knew it his cock was inside Newt and he was crying out, unable to focus on any other sensation. 

“Oh, Newton, you feel gorgeous. There’s this room for me inside you; it’s lovely.” 

After saying this, Hermann realized he had no idea what it meant, so he shut up and let Newt do his work. This work consisted mainly of riding Hermann hard and fast, and continuously shouting happy non-words. 

Newt wasn’t trying to please Hermann at all, but it gratified Hermann to watch (and feel) Newt working hard to please himself. If he lacked experience, it wasn’t apparent. His body knew what to do, how to squeeze an Alpha’s cock and milk his load from him. 

He rode with incredible energy and intensity. Hermann could hardly believe that he was even _present_ , let alone a participant in this mad frenzy of lust. But Newt was grabbing desperately at him, taking Hermann’s hands and putting them on his own hips, directing Hermann to direct him. And Hermann’s tight grip provoked even more obscene groans and full-body jerks. 

Newt’s soft, wet heat and his shrill noises of gratification were conspiring to make Hermann’s knot form. He could feel an urgent tingling, and intense feeling of congestion at the base of his cock. Newt was riding Hermann madly, and his rim brushed the knot as he bounced. 

“Newton, hold still for a moment, so I can get my knot into you, or it’ll be too late.” Funny; Hermann was only just now experiencing this anatomical phenomenon, but he knew exactly how to use it. 

When the widest part of his knot breached, Newt began to climax uncontrollably. The squirt of come from his little Omega cock was an afterthought, compared to the deep, rolling contractions inside him, squeezing at Hermann. 

God, Newton was just such a force of nature; watching him, feeling him, Hermann could not help but be carried along with him, and his climax seemed just an extension of Newt’s, smoothly integrated into their mutual euphoric haze. 

Hermann watched as Newt continued to pleasure himself atop him, and then suddenly he slumped, groaning happily but obviously exhausted. And Hermann couldn’t blame him. But Newt could not move much in order to find rest, trapped as he was on Hermann’s knot. When he tried to fall forward, the knot pulled at his rim and he squeaked in pain. They tried to turn onto their sides together, but it was too much to ask of Hermann to position his leg that way. In the end, they were able to scoot close to the wall so Newt could lean wearily, waiting as Hermann continued to shudder and ejaculate periodically for several minutes. A sense of calm and peace began to descend over him, and he was quite enjoying the blissful silence. Then Newt spoke: 

“I’m glad it was you,” he said. “I think I would have taken it from anyone at that point, but I’m glad it was you.” 

Hearing this elicited a soft gasp and another spurt from Hermann, who gripped Newt’s hips once more, more possessively than before. “Everyone will know what we’ve been doing,” Hermann said. “The next time you leave this room, everyone will be able to smell me on you.” 

Newt shrugged. “Then I guess it’s a good thing that I still don’t care what anyone else thinks.” 

“Not even me?” Hermann said. 

“Not even you. For example: I don’t care if you don’t want to have sex again in twenty minutes. We’re just gonna.” 

“Indeed,” Hermann said, and smiled.

 


End file.
